


The Road

by Elephant_PJs



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bassist Tyreese, Drummer Merle, Guitarist Daryl, M/M, Producer Rick, Singer Glenn, Tara has a radio show, angsty af, country music AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elephant_PJs/pseuds/Elephant_PJs
Summary: Daryl Dixon is the guitarist and primary songwriter for the increasingly popular country-rock band King County. Rick Grimes is an award winning country music songwriter and producer. It could be the greatest collaboration either of them have made if only Daryl didn't have such a big crush on Rick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First time I've written something in over 2 years and it's after binge watching TWD and Nashville...not too hard to see where this came from. If only Andy didn't look so much like Deacon.

They don’t tell you about the loneliness. 

They tell you about how shitty it is to sleep in a different bed every night, the insane hours, and all those miles in a bus. 

They also tell you about the exhilaration, the people chanting your name like worship at an altar, the outrageous parties. 

They don’t tell you about the loneliness. 

Because video-chat through a lousy connection doesn’t cut it. You can’t quite get warm when you go to sleep. You feel alone despite the fact that there are three people who rest their heads not four feet from where you do. 

Because the loneliness fucking sucks. 

 

***

 

Another hotel apartment, and Daryl can’t sleep again. The bus leaves in four hours, but he’s on the couch with his acoustic in his arms. The moonlight still coming through the living room window makes everything look a little greyer, a little bluer. He strums lightly, absentmindedly.

His phone sits to the left of his bare feet. His eyes flicker every now and then to the black screen. He’s calculated the time difference over and over. He could probably call now and it wouldn’t be that inappropriate; people back home would be up getting ready for work right now. 

His hands never reach for the small device though. The thick callouses on his fingers are finally getting a little sore, but his hands don’t stray from his beat up Gibson. Nothing good can come from that phone call. 

It takes some time, but soon the strumming gains a steady, organised rhythm. He adds in a short riff, and soon a few licks around where the verses are gonna go. He starts playing louder, more forcefully. He scrunches his eyes closed, letting the music flood his being. 

He doesn’t hear when Glenn’s door opens and closes shut as the singer emerges for his desperately needed morning coffee. He doesn’t notice Tyreese standing there next to Glenn, sharing a knowing look with a pristine white cup in each of their hands. Merle is the last one to make an appearance, but he holds off on his usual obnoxiousness as Daryl’s distinctive sound hits his ears. There’s another knowing look exchanged between the other three band members. 

Daryl lets the last chord ring out and takes a second before opening his eyes. When he does, he immediately starts squinting. The sun is up. How did that happen so fast? 

“That’s beautiful, baby brother,” Merle announces and Daryl nearly jumps. He turns and glares at the three men. Tyreese shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. 

Glenn tells him, “You’ve done it again, Daryl. I’ll help you write some lyrics up on the bus today.” 

Daryl gives him a tiny nod, then places the guitar down. 

“What’s the time?” he asks. 

“Bout seven-thirty,” Merle responds. “Might wanna shower there, Dare. You prolly stink somethin’ awful.” 

“Whatever, asshole,” Daryl retorts, getting up to look for a towel anyway because Merle is actually right. 

 

***

 

Daryl’s never been a big fan of parties. It’s the only time he feels more alone than when he’s by himself. Tonight is no exception. Merle is trying to talk the panties off any girl who’ll so much as step a toe into his line of sight. Tyreese is sitting with some of the roadies, having an animated discussion in one corner. Glenn has his girlfriend, Maggie, firmly tucked under an arm and they’re beaming at each other as they catch up. 

“How you doin’, man?” a familiar voice drawls and Daryl turns to shake his manager’s hand. 

“I’m good,” Daryl tells Shane and takes another sip from his beer. 

“That’s great, brother. Any plans for this evening? Can’t have my guitarist lookin’ as miserable as you do,” Shane teases, then nudges Daryl with his elbow. “C’mon man, lighten up.” 

Daryl gives his signature non-committal shrug.

“Suit yourself. Just try and have a good time,” Shane says, claps Daryl on the back and then wanders off. 

Daryl was surprised he stayed to chat that long. Andrea Harrison, part of the label’s legal team, had walked in five minutes ago. It’s the worst kept secret that Shane can’t keep his wedding vows when the blonde is around. 

That’s another thing Daryl’s noticed from being on the road – so many people just can’t stay faithful. He’d never question Glenn, but he’s one of the few above reproach. Phillip Blake or The Governor, who Daryl sometimes tours with, is notorious for sleeping with a different woman every night, even though he’s got a wife and a young daughter back home. Gareth from Terminus is another, though Daryl is never sure if Gareth is actually in a relationship anyway, so maybe that’s not fair. Tabloids can be vicious. Knowing Gareth though, he wouldn’t put it past him. 

In any case, Daryl’s seen what can happen to couples in this life, and he doesn’t want that. 

Daryl’s wondered about taking a leaf out of Merle’s book – be unattached and have a lot of sex with strangers. Merle is always going on about his latest conquest, and it’s never dull when he gets the clap. He certainly seems to be having fun. 

Those girls sneaking out of the bunk or the hotel room all do their quick glance around as they pick up their stilettos and comb their hair through their fingers. He sees them peek over their shoulders to look at the result of last night’s decisions. The expression on their faces is usually not one of pride, even if they are groupies. Merle laughs it off, as he always does. 

Except no one knows his brother like Daryl does. Daryl notices how every time the spark in Merle’s eyes grows a little dimmer, and it’s not because the life of a self-proclaimed ladies’ man is lonely. It’s because underneath the layers of crude, asshole red-neck, there’s a romantic in Merle Dixon, and it suffers. 

Daryl doesn’t want that either. 

He looks over at Glenn and Maggie. They’ve been together for two years now, and it’s easily the happiest Daryl’s seen his friend. They’re like two halves of a whole; they light up when the other’s around. Daryl thinks it must be nice to have someone look at you like you’re the best part of the whole goddamn universe. Maggie is Glenn’s best friend, and they have the kind of love you only see on the big screen. 

This is also the saddest Glenn’s ever been. When he’s apart from Maggie, he gets moody. His temper is short, and he’s constantly distracted by his phone, checking on her, wanting to hear her voice, and Maggie’s no better. The distance kills them both, and they try to act like it doesn’t matter, which makes it all ten times worse. Mostly though, they seem lonely even though they do have each other. 

Daryl isn’t sure the good outweighs the bad there. He takes another sip from his beer. 

 

***

 

His guitar is already strapped to him, even though the opener’s still on and there’s another fifteen minutes before they’re due on stage. His fingers lightly practice the chord progressions, more out of nerves than necessity. But Daryl’s not scared about performing, because he never is. The stage is his home, even if the spotlight isn’t. 

There are just so many damn people backstage. It’s all organised chaos, but it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. Or at least it is for Daryl anyway. Glenn’s gently sipping from his water bottle in between his usual warm-up exercises, Tyreese is chatting with their head sound engineer, Michonne, while Merle is his usual obnoxious self, hitting anything in sight with his drumsticks. Only Daryl can see the way Merle slightly leans in so he can hear their conversation. 

“Daryl, get your ass over here!” Michonne calls and Daryl reluctantly leaves his post in the shadows to join them all. “I didn’t get to ask you at sound check how those new ears are going. They okay?” 

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Daryl assures her. The last ones had crapped out halfway through their last show. 

She nods and says, “Good. This is a big show.”

“They’re all big shows – this is an arena tour,” Tyreese points out teasingly. Michonne just rolls her eyes. 

“Whatever. Anyway, I better go check on my proby. Opener’s one thing to mess up, you guys however…” 

Daryl rolls his eyes, earning him a jab in the ribs. 

“Break a leg, guys,” Michonne says to him and Tyreese, then struts off. 

Tyreese chuckles, watching her, then turns to Daryl. 

“Your new song’s gonna be great tonight,” he says. 

“Thanks, man. I hope so.” 

“What’s this about a new song?!” a familiar voice booms. 

Shane of course is wearing his usual million-dollar-smile, but it’s the man by his side that has Daryl like a deer in headlights. 

“Y’all remember your producer for the next album, right?” Shane asks and Glenn runs over to shake the hand of the newcomer.

“Long time no see, Rick!” Glenn greets and Rick smiles at him. 

“Too long. It’s great to see you. I’m lookin’ forward to the show,” Rick responds cheerily and Daryl suddenly has the urge to go run a mile in the opposite direction. 

“Thanks, Rick,” Tyreese says. “We’ve got a bunch of new songs we’re ready to lay down.”

Shane claps Rick on the shoulder and tells him, “The boys come off the road in a week. Just got tonight and the Atlanta show, then we finish up in Nashville. I can solidify the studio time the moment you give the go ahead.” 

“You tellin’ me that just ‘cause this asshole says so I gotta cancel my first week off in months?” Merle yells, suddenly barrelling into the discussion. 

Rick looks slightly amused at this, but just says, “Good to see you’re well, Merle.” 

Merle sneers then comes to stand next to his brother. That’s when Rick’s eyes finally meet Daryl’s. Daryl had forgotten quite how piercing those baby-blues could be, but he holds the gaze the best he can. Rick’s stubble is a lot shorter than the beard he had when they last saw each other, and makes him look his actual age rather than fifteen years older. His curls have been pushed back, and he looks very professional in his clean-cut suit rather than the usual flannel and band t-shirt combo. 

“Merle, we’ve been talkin’ bout this for weeks, man,” Shane scolds, “It’s time to get in some solid work on the record. The songs are all ready to go.” 

“I hear you’re playin’ a new one tonight,” Rick prods with a smile. 

Glenn starts to nod but Daryl quickly shuts it down with, “No. We ain’t.” 

Rick raises an eyebrow, but Daryl’s already stomping off back to his former spot in the corner. 

Glenn gives the producer a sympathetic look and just says, “Nice to see you, Rick.” 

 

***

 

The cameras flash as they make their way to the bus, fans once again managing to find the hotel they were staying at. It’s nine in the morning and Daryl’s got his sunglasses on, a takeaway coffee cup in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. Merle’s the same, minus the coffee, but he’s got a big grin on his face. 

“Nice of y’all to come see us so early, darlin’,” he says to one fan as he takes her poster and signs his name. 

Glenn was first in the bus over half an hour ago, but he’s come out to stand in the doorway and give the fans a hearty wave with that winning-smile of his. Tyreese is talking with Shane, the handle of his bass case in hand. If Ty’s taking that thing on the bus, it’s a good sign they’re gonna do some serious writing on the road. 

Daryl’s not sure if that’s such a good thing. Sure he loves making music, but writing with his bandmates means that they’re actually gonna talk. He already knows how they’re gonna pry. Glenn can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut – his curiosity is notoriously insatiable, and Daryl just so happens to be his favourite target. He was pretty bad over the latest song when he was trying to put lyrics to it, kept trying to weasel the meaning of the piece out. Daryl would just pick up the pen and cross out or add words as the only indication of what was going through his head. 

If he’s being truly honest though, it’s always funny to watch Glenn sweat. 

Soon enough though, they’ve all had their coffees and they’re on the highway. Merle slaps the table with his hands to give them a beat. Daryl’s mucking around with a solo as Glenn strums his own guitar furiously. Ty has his bass plugged in and plucks out a jazzy bassline. It’s all very fast and loud, and has an almost-punk energy but it’s upbeat too, and they’re all grinning as they play. 

Daryl gives the nod as he bends the note he’s on, and they all transition back to the chorus. Glenn starts belting it out and the rest of them weave their harmonies through the melody. 

“Once more!” Tyreese yells, and they keep it going, seamlessly changing key. 

Then Daryl stops playing and joins Merle in the percussion section. Tyreese and Glenn take the cue, Glenn sings the chorus through one final time, and then they stop. 

Applause starts as Shane and Michonne come into view. 

“Now that’s exactly why you guys need to get back into the studio. The fans are gonna go crazy over this,” Shane tells them, coming up and clapping Ty on the shoulder. 

“That was awesome,” Michonne agrees. “I might actually buy this album.” 

“You’re pushin’ it, darlin’,” Merle scolds her, but the smile is teasing. 

She just raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

Daryl puts his guitar down and asks, “Hey Shane, can I talk to you a sec?” 

“Sure man,” Shane replies and jerks his head towards the back of the bus. 

Daryl gets up and follows him into the small lounge where they keep a TV and the Xbox. 

“What’s on your mind, Daryl?” Shane asks as he flops down on the couch. Sometimes he reminds Daryl more of an overgrown puppy than their manager. 

Daryl takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch and says, “I don’t think Rick’s the right fit for this record.” 

Shane’s face loses its smile. 

“Daryl, you were the one who wanted to work with him in the first place, and he’s one of the best producers in country. Damn, the last album he did with Alexandria is about to go platinum, and they’re one of the frontrunners for the CMAs this year.” 

“I don’t give a shit about winnin’ awards, and you know that. I don’t think he suits our sound.” 

Shane shakes his head and says, “Even if I agreed with you, which I don’t, he’s already under contract. This is a done deal and there’s no way we’re breakin’ that. I’m sorry, Daryl, but you need to man up and deal with it.”

Daryl grits his teeth and glares. Shane just sighs and gets to his feet. 

“I’ll leave you alone to sulk for a bit then. When you get over yourself, come back out and play the new song again,” Shane tells him. 

Just as he’s about to shut the door behind him, he calls, “For what it’s worth, I think you were right the first time. Rick’s gonna be great for this record.” 

Daryl spends the next hour indeed sulking, but Merle soon comes in and thrusts an Xbox controller in his hands. 

 

***

 

“Welcome back to 109.1 TWD, your number one source in Atlanta for country, rock and everything in between. You’re on with Tara and some very special guests,” the young girl smiles at the four men across from her in the studio. “King County, thank you so much for taking time off your tour to have a chat with us. I’ve got Glenn, Tyreese, Merle and Daryl here in the studio. Now guys, you’ve been on the road for how long now?”

“It’s been about six months now, but we’re always happy to take some time for our fans from our home town,” Glenn replies. 

“Six months is a long time to be away from the family. How do you cope with that?” 

“Honestly, it’s all about figuring out where you do have gaps and making the effort to see those people as much as possible,” Glenn offers. 

“So none of you are into the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle?” 

“Now, I don’t know about that, darlin’. I know I party like a rockstar,” Merle interjects, earning laughs from everyone. “I can’t speak for the rest of these losers though.” 

Tara laughs then with her infectious smile asks, “Well there’s one question I know everyone wants to know the answer to: when can we expect the new album?” 

Tyreese takes this one and says, “We’re actually going into the studio next week. We’ve got some great new material that we’re itching to get down, and we’re real excited for the fans to hear what we’ve been working on.” 

“That’s fantastic news for the fans out there. Are there any more hints you can give us?” 

Glenn looks slyly over at Daryl, then says, “We can tell you that we’re gonna be working very closely with our producer, Rick Grimes.” 

“Wow,” Tara exclaims. “For those who don’t know, Rick Grimes’ latest work was on Alexandria’s _Wolves_ record. The title track of course, was at number one on the country charts for four weeks, and is due for a CMA nod. Rick was also legend Hershel Greene’s protégé, and has worked with renowned blues player Morgan Jones.

“Those are some big acts to follow, gents, but I’m sure we can expect something pretty special from you on this new record.”

“Absolutely,” Glenn continues. “Rick’s one of the best in the business, and Daryl’s been spearheading some of the best songs we’ve ever written, it’s a winning combination.” 

Tara nods then turns to Daryl, whose stomach drops. 

“Daryl, have you been doing any writing with Rick Grimes?” Tara asks so innocently, even Daryl can’t snap at her. 

“Not at this stage. We’ve been doing this all as a band.” 

“Well I’m sure Rick will have some great ideas for the music, and I know I speak for the listeners when I say I can’t wait for this record,” Tara then leans over her computer and says, “It’s been great talking to you guys. Thanks so much for taking the time to visit, and good luck for the show tonight! Now Merle, can you do me a favour and introduce the song?” 

Merle smirks and replies, “Sure thing, sweetheart. Here’s one of ours, it’s called _Walkers_.” 

 

***

 

They’ve just finished sound-check when Glenn finally approaches Daryl. 

“Good to know we can all sleep in our own beds tonight, right?” he says cheerily and too casually. 

Daryl gives him a shrug and responds with, “We’re gonna be in Nashville in two days till the record’s finished. Don’t care bout my bed till I can stay in it.” 

“You don’t seem that excited about recording. Thought you were looking forward to laying down the new tracks?” Glenn prods. 

Daryl huffs loudly in frustration. 

“Don’t dance round it, Korean. What d’you want?” he snaps. 

Glenn holds his hands up in defence and says, “I just wanna get to the bottom of this attitude you got with Rick, man. It’s gonna be super awkward for everyone if you don’t deal with it.” 

“It’s none of your damn business!”

“What’s the matter, Darleena?” Merle interrupts. 

Daryl shakes his head. Of course this is gonna turn into some band drama. He passes his guitar to his tech and pulls his leather jacket on. 

“Nothin’. I’ll see y’all later,” he tells them before stalking off. “And none of you assholes better follow me!” 

“Darleena really don’t wanna do this record?” Merle asks once his brother’s out of earshot. 

Glenn watches Daryl’s back as he storms off, then muses, “I don’t think it’s the album that’s bothering him. I think it’s more to do with who we’re gonna be working with.” 

Merle groans. 

“Why he gotta do this with our producer? Plenty o’ other pretty boys around,” he complains. 

Glenn grins at that and points out, “I don’t think you can thank any of those pretty boys for those killer songs we’ve got.” 

 

***

 

Daryl raps his knuckles on the door just twice before it swings inwards. 

“Pookie!” Carol exclaims, face lighting up like Christmas came early. She pulls him in tight and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever, you been gone so long.” 

“Hey,” Daryl greets simply, tentatively patting his friend’s back. 

She then releases him, gives him another smile, then waves him in. 

“Where’s Sophia at?” he asks as they enter the living room, noticing how quiet it is in the apartment. 

“Oh, she’s havin’ a sleepover with one of her friends from school. You want some iced tea?” 

Daryl nods and sits down in the armchair. He looks so out of place here in his black clothes and leather jacket, against the floral pattern of the couches, the lilies in the vase on the dining table, and those little scented oil sticks in the corner which smell like vanilla. 

Carol’s soon handing him a glass and is asking, “So what’s on your mind, pookie?” 

“Huh?” 

She rolls her eyes and says, “It don’t matter how long you’re away, Daryl Dixon, I can still read you like a book. What’s wrong?” 

Daryl sighs and caves with, “I ever tell you bout Rick Grimes?” 

“Only in passing,” she takes a sip from her tea, “You finally gonna talk to me about that one?” 

Daryl frowns. 

“What do you mean ‘that one’?” he grunts. 

Carol gives him that sympathetic half-smile, but doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to, because Daryl knows exactly what she means. 

“Nothin’ even happened, and he’s still-”

“In your head?” 

Daryl stares at the lilies on the table and nods. 

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” 

 

***

 

_He orders a double bourbon, neat, and longs for the days when he could smoke in a bar. But this isn’t a dive even; it’s the bar of the swanky Nashville hotel their label’s put them up in. He didn’t realise most people here would be in suits either, even though he’s noticed cowboy boots on more than one. Then again, he should be used to being the odd one out by now._

_There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns to the stranger in the open flannel shirt and the faded_ Lynyrd Skynyrd _t-shirt. His dark curls are a bit wild and his beard has a fair bit of grey in it, but the skin that’s visible is still relatively smooth, hinting that he’s younger than he looks._

_And those eyes._

_“Daryl Dixon?” the stranger asks._

_“Yeah, man,” Daryl replies._

_“Rick Grimes. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”_

_Daryl nods with recognition and hastily holds out his hand to shake Rick’s._

_“’Course. Nice to meet ya, Rick.”_

_Rick smiles and sits on the stool next to Daryl._

_“Hope I haven’t kept you waitin’ long. Bit of drama with the ex-wife,” Rick explains as he waves over the bartender and slides a note over the bar. “Scotch, neat, thanks.”_

_“No problem. Bit unreal gettin’ your call.”_

_Rick chuckles and tells him, “Trust me, I ain’t anything special. ‘Sides, would’ve thought y’all are used to getting calls from producers by now.”_

_Daryl looks down at his drink and lets his hair cover his face._

_“S’bit new.”_

_“Well, Daryl,” Daryl suddenly snaps up to meet Rick’s gaze at his name that sounds so good rolling off Rick’s tongue, “I wanted to meet with you to offer to produce your band’s next record.”_

_Daryl’s rarely caught by surprise, but this actually forces a “wow” past his lips. Rick smirks good-naturedly._

_“Why you talkin’ to me ‘bout it?” Daryl then asks. “This is the kinda stuff we have a manager for.”_

_Rick’s smile falls, but his tone is unaffected when he says, “You’re the band’s main songwriter. It’s you I’d be workin’ with most, not Shane. So it’s you I gotta convince.”_

_Daryl snorts and has another mouthful of bourbon._

_“You ain’t gotta convince me of nothin’, Rick. I’m a big fan o’yours,” he admits, feeling his face flush just a little._

_The smile on Rick’s face doesn’t fade even once the paperwork’s been signed; the contract ready for after Rick’s finished recording and mixing Alexandria, and Daryl’s back from tour._

_***_

_It’s only a week after the contract’s been signed that Daryl gets a call from Rick._

_“Didn’t think you got to hound me till we’re in the studio,” he teases as he answers the phone._

_“Just you wait,” humour evident in Rick’s voice._

_“What can I do for you, Rick?” Daryl asks, a little smirk on his face as he sits on the end of his bed, laundry pile forgotten._

_“Well, I have a spare ticket here for this little show tonight. It’s at this place, you probably haven’t heard of, called the Grand Ole Opry for a young Mr Hershel Greene…”_

_Daryl nearly drops the phone._

_“You’re kiddin’ me,” he accuses and Rick chuckles._

_“How soon can you get here?” the producer asks. “I don’t think I can bear goin’ stag.”_

_“I’m leaving now.”_

_***_

_Rick’s standing on his porch when Daryl pulls up on his Harley._

_“And here I thought Bond was the coolest thing out,” he calls as Daryl takes off his helmet._

_Daryl raises an eyebrow as he takes in the neatly trimmed beard and charcoal suit. There’s no getting away from it, Rick looks gorgeous._

_“That ain’t a tux,” he points out, deliberately turning his attention to the bike and away from Rick._

_“Biker ain’t exactly appropriate for the Opry,” Rick retorts and Daryl shakes his head, walking up to the other man._

_“Relax, I’ll look like a douchebag for you for the night,” he promises, holding up a bag._

_“Champion of the people,” Rick announces, then ushers Daryl into his house._

_The living room, just inside the door, is basically an homage to music. There are two guitars hanging on the walls, and three placed throughout the room. There’s a beautiful, expensive looking record player in one corner, next to the couch, and an upright piano with Rick’s two CMA and one ACM awards for his song-writing about five years ago now balanced on the top. There’s a signed Hershel Greene record on the wall and a photo of Rick’s debut at the Opry fifteen years ago, from when he was a performer. There are also a few photos of Rick with a young boy with the same bright blue eyes._

_“Whoa, nice place,” Daryl says as he takes it all in._

_Rick smiles and closes the front door behind him._

_“Thanks. Don’t think you’d say the same about my place in Atlanta,” Rick jokes and Daryl just raises an eyebrow. “It’s the barest two bedroom you’ve ever seen, with a fridge full of condiments and no food.”_

_“You in Atlanta often?”_

_Rick shakes his head and explains, “It’s only for when Lori’s being particularly difficult and won’t let Carl cross state-lines for a weekend. I’d argue with her, but I really gotta take the time with my son when I can get it. Plus I got a lot of business in Atlanta too, and my folks are in Georgia. Made sense to get a place there.”_

_“How old is your son?”_

_“He’s fourteen.”_

_“Huh.”_

_Rick frowns and asks, “What does that mean?”_

_Daryl jerks his head towards the Opry picture._

_“Always wondered why you ain’t done the solo thing after your EP. Now it makes sense.”_

_Rick sighs and perches on the edge of his couch, eyes wistful at the picture._

_“When Carl was born, I realised there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to be close to him. I couldn’t do that on the road, so I made a choice. And now I only see him every few weekends and on holidays,” Rick turns with a soft smile that just looks so damn sad._

_Daryl doesn’t know quite what to say, so he tells him, “I still listen to your EP.”_

_Rick suddenly grins and pats Daryl’s shoulder before saying, “You should go get changed before I tell you ‘bout my first summer camp. First door on your left.”_

_***_

_It’s a big night at the Opry; Hershel Greene’s 30th anniversary since his induction. That means a sold out show, some of the biggest names in country out to celebrate, and a red carpet out front. Daryl recognises a lot of faces, even though he hasn’t actually met all too many people. Hershel’s daughters, Patricia, Maggie and Beth, are all taking pictures with their father when Daryl and Rick arrive._

_“This is fuckin’ huge,” Daryl marvels, earning a chuckle from Rick._

_“Don’t worry. No one will actually wanna talk to us tonight,” he teases. “Even though you do look like a rock star.”_

_Daryl’s suit ensemble is his signature black, and no, he is definitely not wearing cowboy boots._

_“You need to get out more if this is what a rock star looks like to you.”_

_“We’re out right now,” Rick reminds him, and Daryl smirks._

_“Guess we are.”_

_Rick places a hand on the small of Daryl’s back and pushes him forward._

_“The cameras are waiting,” he whispers in Daryl’s ear, and Daryl feels an involuntary shudder rip through him._

_***_

_Rick’s right when he says the reporters don’t really care about them hanging out. The cameras do go crazy the moment Rick leaves Daryl’s side to go up and hug his mentor. The old legend is all smiles tonight, and the father-son dynamic between the pair is clear as glass._

_“Daryl! What are you doing here?!” Glenn runs over, Maggie in tow, who like her father seems to have a permanent grin. Daryl had almost forgotten that Glenn’s girlfriend was the daughter of the famous Hershel Greene. Of course Glenn would be here with her tonight._

_“Rick invited me, man,” Daryl says. “Couldn’t say no to this.”_

_Glenn and Maggie exchange a look that has Daryl frowning._

_“What?” he grunts at them._

_“Nothin’. It’s just nice to see Rick havin’ a good time,” Maggie says sincerely. “You’d think he only just divorced Lori a month ago, the way he’s been carryin’ on.”_

_“Yeah, two years is a bit long to still have break-up beard,” Glenn chimes in. “Shit, Lori’s been married to Shane a good six months now.”_

_Daryl double-takes._

_“Are we talkin’ ‘bout Shane’s wife, Lori? Shane as in our manager?” he demands._

_Maggie gives him a funny look._

_“How did you not know this, Daryl?” she asks._

_Glenn adds, “I’m pretty sure even Merle figured this out ages ago. And your brother’s an idiot.”_

_Daryl rolls his eyes and says, “Y’all gossip like old ladies. Enjoy the show.”_

_***_

_“Here’s your beer,” and Rick hands Daryl his bottle._

_They clink the glass then each take a sip._

_“You havin’ a good time?” Rick asks and Daryl nods as he looks around the room, at the people filtering out._

_“Hershel’s still got it.”_

_Rick smiles at an oblivious Daryl._

_“That’ll be you some day,” he tells him._

_“I’m 35 and I ain’t ever played here,” Daryl points out, finally looking back at Rick, whose blue eyes are still shining in the darkened room._

_“And that’ll be you someday,” Rick repeats, earning the slightest curl upwards of Daryl’s mouth. “Now c’mon, you gotta meet someone.”_

_Rick grabs Daryl’s elbow and weaves him through the crowd, and before Daryl knows it, he’s face to face with Hershel Greene._

_“Rick! I feel like I haven’t seen you all night,” Hershel greets as he politely pulls away from a conversation with some important looking people. Though the way Hershel behaves with Rick, you would’ve thought Rick was the second-coming._

_“All these people like damn toddlers tryin’ to get your attention, yeah I bet it’s felt like ten years since we arrived.”_

_“Rick,” Hershel scolds, “Be polite. All these nice people came out to support me and my family.”_

_Rick just smiles cheekily and Hershel shakes his head in mock disappointment. It’s only then that he seems to notice Daryl lurking just behind Rick._

_“Who’s this, Rick?” he asks, holding out his hand to Daryl._

_It takes Rick jabbing his elbow into Daryl’s rib for the guitarist to come to his senses and shake the legend’s hand._

_“Daryl Dixon, sir,” he introduces himself._

_“Hershel Greene.”_

_“Believe me, I know, sir. Congratulations,” Daryl says quickly and Rick starts laughing._

_He claps Daryl on the shoulder and says, “Ask him for an autograph, darlin’, I’m sure he might even sign your cleavage for ya.”_

_Daryl knows he must have just gone beet-red._

_Hershel’s shaking his head again, but he tells Daryl, “Don’t worry about this one, Daryl. His mouth runs away with him when he likes someone.”_

_Daryl feels Rick tense around his shoulders, before he slowly retracts his arm. Hershel raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Daryl can tell that he’s saying a lot more with this one gaze than he could ever do in words. It all passes in seconds, and Hershel’s attention is suddenly back on Daryl._

_“So, how’s the band goin’, Daryl?” he asks._

_“Excuse me, I gotta go see some people,” Rick mumbles before wandering off._

_Hershel and Daryl watch him go, but the old musician just says, “Don’t mind Rick. He’ll be back once he’s had a little sulk. Now, tell me about your music.”_

_“Oh. Uh, I don’t think you wanna hear ‘bout that. It’s your night-”_

_Hershel cuts him off, “I’ve had enough nights in my time. Now, I loved that song of yours of your last album,_ Cherokee Rose _. Please tell me you got that momentum goin’ with your song-writing.”_

_Daryl can’t help but gape a little._

_“Daryl?”_

_He shakes his head out of this daydream where Hershel freaking Greene is complimenting his song._

_“Sorry. This is a bit…one o’ my heroes is tellin’ me he likes my music,” Daryl blurts, eyes instantly falling to his shoes._

_Hershel laughs and claps Daryl on the shoulder._

_“Relax, Daryl. I had to investigate when Maggie started dating Glenn, and I know talent when I hear it. You fellas have really got somethin’. Bethy listens to y’all on repeat – she sang_ Empty Cells _in her school talent show last year.”_

_“That’s really…wow.”_

_“But you, Daryl, the song-writin’. Very, very impressive.”_

_Patricia then comes over and taps her father on the shoulder._

_“Sorry, Daddy, but Dale’s askin’ for ya. He’s ravin’ on about some people…I don’t know,” she tells him._

_Hershel sighs and turns back to Daryl, shaking his hand again._

_“It was real nice to meet you, son. You ever need anything, you give me a call.”_

_And he was so sincere that Daryl could have sworn he saw the father he always wanted there in Hershel’s eyes._

_***_

_It took a long time for Daryl to fall asleep once he collapsed into Carl’s bed, his mind still whirring from the evening’s events. The moment he got in the car, he had to hide the stupid smile on his face from a still strangely sullen Rick Grimes._

_Hershel Greene likes Daryl’s songs. Hershel Greene thinks that Daryl’s talented._

_But he still has that nearly four hour drive back to Atlanta tomorrow, so as much of a good night’s sleep as he can scrounge up is a necessity. Except that’s really hard to get when there’s a guitar playing and Daryl knows just the progression that’d work best for the song._

_He picks up his phone from the nightstand and checks the time; just after three._

_“Damn it,” he grumbles, then pulls on a t-shirt and follows the music._

_Rick’s looking out the window, curled up on the couch, acoustic in hand. The song is mostly finger-picking and it’s just the right mixture of sad and hopeful. He hums a tune over the top and closes his eyes, head slightly bobbing in time._

_Daryl waits till this latest stretch is done before he makes his presence known with a, “Sounds good.”_

_Rick whips his head around so fast it’s like he’s been just heard a gunshot rather than Daryl’s soft call._

_He’s silent for a couple of moments before the intensity in his eyes mellows and he says, “Sorry if I woke you. I just really needed to get this down.”_

_Daryl shrugs and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed._

_“I get it. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”_

_Rick shakes his head and in an agitated voice cries, “I can’t get this damn part right! And I can’t sleep till it’s down.”_

_He pinches the bridge of his nose and then runs his hands through his hair. Daryl just chuckles at the sight before unfolding his arms and walking over to the frustrated man. He’s at Rick’s shoulder when he holds out his hands for the guitar. Rick looks up at him before resignedly handing over the instrument._

_Daryl sits on the coffee table and quickly figures out the bit Rick was playing just before. Rick nods when he’s got it, and then Daryl tells him, “Somethin’ like this.”_

_He plays the progression he’d mapped out in his head and suddenly it’s like a weight has lifted off of both of them. Rick even cracks a smile._

_“Damn, you’re good,” he admits and Daryl smirks a little. “Pass me the guitar.”_

_Daryl hands the acoustic back, and Rick figures out the new section quickly. He lets out a sigh once he’s played it through properly._

_“I can actually sleep tonight,” Rick realises with gratitude._

_“Me too,” Daryl jokes._

_“I said I was sorry ‘bout that.”_

_Daryl just smiles at him, before quickly looking out the window, breaking the eye contact that’s a bit too much so early in the morning when the drinks he had at the show are still in his system._

_“Pretty emotional song for three in the mornin’,” Daryl states carefully._

_“I s’pose it is.”_

_“Is it about someone?” Daryl prods and God, he does not know why._

_Rick just stares straight at him and says, “Yeah.”_

_***_

_Rick comes down to Atlanta two weeks later to talk shop with the band. Daryl can’t help but notice the difference between work-Rick and the Rick he spent the night at the Opry with. Work-Rick is a man of few words, but the few that do pass his lips command the respect of everyone in the room. He oozes authority, confidence and something that feels almost dangerous._

_He sits down with them all and discusses the direction of the album, and what he expects from them in terms of preparation while they’re out on tour. He’s extremely strong on the point that they need to be writing as much music as humanly possible, so they have plenty to choose from when it comes to cutting the album. He wants all of the demos the week before they get to the studio – nothing fancy, just a rough recording for the general idea._

_Merle predictably doesn’t take too well to all of this. His first instinct is always to do the opposite of what someone else orders of him, and Rick is not asking nicely. He’s constantly slamming his fist down on the table, or snarling at Rick, calling him ‘Friendly’ for some reason. Eventually, no one can take any more and they break for lunch._

_The drummer is the first to vacate the room, and has already stuck a cigarette in his mouth before he reaches the elevator. Ty and Glenn are asking Shane about parts of the tour schedule, which leaves Daryl and Rick the last two people in the meeting room._

_When Rick realises this, the effect is nearly instantaneous. He grins at Daryl, eyes crinkling at the corners._

_“Hey, Daryl,” he greets, like it’s the first time he’s spoken to him all day, despite the fact that they’ve been in this room for the past two hours. “You wanna grab some lunch with me? I just gotta pack up a few things here.”_

_The ‘yeah’ is out of Daryl’s mouth before he’s even processed the question._

_“Great,” Rick says. “There’s a place round the corner that do awesome burgers.”_

_Daryl nods and gets to his feet, pulling his leather jacket over one of the few non-black shirts he has (specifically for meetings). Rick finishes putting all of his papers back in their proper order and in his bag, then walks round so he can hold the door open for Daryl._

_“How you been?” Rick asks on their way to the elevator._

_“Not bad. Tryin’ to do as much stuff as I can ‘fore we go out on the road.”_

_“You been out huntin’?”_

_The elevator dings and they step inside. After the Opry they started texting most days. Daryl’s been talking about going out one last time before the tour since then._

_“Yeah, did that on the weekend.” Daryl bagged a buck, so he and Merle have been eating venison the past few days. “You seein’ your son while you’re in town?”_

_“I pick him up tomorrow afternoon. Tonight I have to myself and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.”_

_“That don’t sound half bad.”_

_Rick tilts his head and suggests, “You could always join.”_

_Daryl snorts and pushes Rick’s shoulder with his own._

_“We ain’t even had lunch yet and you’re already tryin’ to get me back to your place. Classy, Rick.”_

_Rick laughs and after a moment just notes, “I’ll take that as a yes.”_

_The corner of Daryl’s mouth twitches upwards._

_***_

_They’re flat on their backs on Rick’s bed, a nearly empty bottle of Jack is on the nightstand._

_“God, I haven’t been this drunk in years,” Rick announces and drags a hand slowly down his face, slack with intoxication._

_“Try havin’ Merle round 24/7,” Daryl challenges. “This is just a Tuesday night.”_

_Rick’s head lolls so he can glare at the smirking guitarist._

_“Do not talk to me about Merle,” Rick orders. “If I hear ‘Friendly, you are gonna be crampin’ my style with the tour-pussy,’ one more time, I’m gonna shoot him. I don’t know how you stand it.”_

_“You got brothers, Rick?” Daryl asks._

_“Only child.”_

_“I s’pose this may be hard for ya to understand then, but it don’t matter what shit comes outta his mouth, he’s still family. And he’s done good by me.”_

_Rick goes quiet for a moment._

_“I read somewhere that you got a lot of scars,” he finally says._

_Daryl tenses, remembering an incident at a photoshoot a couple of years ago._

_“What about it?” he snaps, glaring at the producer._

_Rick reaches out slowly and puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl goes perfectly still and he can hear his own breathing, but he doesn’t shrug Rick off._

_“Sorry. I don’t know why I brought that up,” Rick apologises. “Didn’t wanna upset you.”_

_“No, you obviously wanna know somethin’.”_

_Rick hesitates before answering, but eventually explains, “I was listenin’ to that song of yours,_ Cherokee Rose _this mornin’. It got me thinkin’.”_

_Daryl snorts, but it’s half-hearted, and it feels like lying when he says, “That song’s for my friend and her daughter. Her asshole ex was a son of a bitch and after he finally got what was comin’, Sophia kept runnin’ away.”_

_Rick holds Daryl’s still-stormy gaze, and he sees straight through._

_“You don’t write like that ‘less it’s personal,” Rick accuses._

_“How the hell would you know that?”_

_Rick frowns and sternly tells Daryl, “Just because I grew up with a good family and never went without, don’t mean I’ve never suffered. I’m a musician too. I know how we vent our problems. Christ, I walked in on my wife fucking my childhood best friend. I got shit just like you do. It ain’t the same shit, but it stinks all the same.”_

_Daryl suddenly feels like an asshole._

_“I didn’t know Shane did that – there were rumours but-”_

_“I figured you’re not one to gossip,” Rick sighs and turns away, “But you’d be one of the few who didn’t then. Felt like everyone in the whole world knew at the time, and they probably did.”_

_Daryl’s eyes soften when he sees the exhaustion on Rick’s face. Rick was right of course; Daryl’s shit ain’t like Rick’s, and Daryl has no idea what your wife of over ten years cheating on you with your best friend feels like. Daryl guesses it must feel pretty lonely though._

_“When Merle found out who spilled ‘bout my back to the tabloids, from the photoshoot, we had to pay off the guy so he wouldn’t press assault charges,” Daryl admits._

_“He’s a good brother to you.”_

_Daryl nods._

_“I’m glad you have someone lookin’ out for you,” Rick continues. “Everyone needs someone. Even they’re as obnoxious as Merle.”_

_Their eyes meet again and Daryl asks, “So who do you have?”_

_***_

_When Daryl wakes it’s to the open and shut of a door, and the murmur of voices in the next room. He looks around, head a little fuzzy still, but it’s clear he’s still at Rick’s bare apartment. His shoes at least are on the floor but he even slept in his vest, which he usually likes to take a bit better care of. He slowly gets to his feet, making sure he’s not actually more hungover than he thinks he is, and then makes his way to the door of the bedroom._

_“It’s about damn time,” Rick calls when he hears the door finally crack open. “Come out here, Daryl. There’s coffee and someone I want you to meet.”_

_Daryl pushes the door all the way open and steps into the living room. Rick is sitting on the couch, back to Daryl, reading the paper. In the kitchen is undoubtedly Rick’s son, those light blue eyes just as piercing as his father’s._

_“Holy shit, Dad,” the boy says._

_“Language!” Rick berates, though it doesn’t sound like his heart is in it. Daryl can hear the curl of his lips in his voice._

_“Dad, you didn’t tell me Daryl freaking Dixon was staying with you,” Carl bites back, eyes wide as he walks over to Daryl with his hand outstretched._

_“Nice to meet ya, Carl,” Daryl greets and clasps Carl’s hand._

_“Sorry if I’m being weird, but wow. I love your band.”_

_“Thanks, man. Did your daddy tell you that he’s gonna produce our next record?”_

_Carl narrows his eyes and Rick must feel the glare, because he turns sheepishly and claims, “I was gonna surprise you!”_

_Carl rolls his eyes at his father and Daryl can’t help but chuckle._

_“Good to know he’s an asshole to his family too,” he tells Carl, who snorts._

_“Dad doesn’t know how to be a normal human being. This is how he talks to people he likes.”_

_“Don’t go spillin’ all my secrets, Carl. Don’t you have homework?” Rick says hastily._

_Carl pulls a face but nevertheless sits at the counter with his school books and a set of headphones._

_“Cool kid,” Daryl murmurs to Rick as he goes to sit on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand. Rick’s eyes meet Daryl’s, sparkling. Daryl bites the inside of his lip, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest, and failing miserably._

_***_

_“You’re good for him.”_

_Daryl looks up from the chopping board with the peppers. Carl flicks some of his too-long hair out of his face, serious expression in his features._

_Rick left ten minutes ago to pick up the meat that he forgot to buy earlier in the excitement of asking Daryl over for dinner, another two weeks after their last meeting, and a week before Daryl goes out on tour. This of course means Daryl is alone with Rick’s teenage son, who is too smart for his own good._

_“What d’ya mean, kid?” Daryl grunts._

_“I haven’t seen Dad smile in a long time. You make him smile. Ergo, you’re good for him.”_

_“People keep saying that,” Daryl complains. “He’s a grown-ass man. I don’t know why everyone round here keeps treatin’ him like he’s gonna break. No one else’s goddamn business.”_

_Carl shrugs and just points out, “I’m his son. I’m allowed to say these things.”_

_Daryl doesn’t refute this._

_“Your daddy is just fine, and it’s sure as hell got nothing’ to do with me.”_

_Carl reaches down and steals a bit of the red bell pepper, tossing it in his mouth, and biting down with a crunch._

_“I dunno. He was pretty sad for a long time. Then you said he could be your producer, and now he doesn’t talk about anything else and you guys hang out all the time. It’s ‘Daryl did this’ and ‘Daryl says that’. Kinda annoying, but it’s cool. I mean I like havin’ you around.”_

_Daryl raises his eyebrows at this._

_“And he’s finally playing guitar again. You’re good for him,” Carl reiterates._

_“So what’s your point, kid?”_

_Carl shrugs again, but doesn’t shy away when he suggests, “You should ask him out. He’d say yes.”_

_Daryl drops the knife down on the chopping board in surprise._

_“And he’d be good for you too,” Carl adds, then walks off into the lounge, turning the TV off and artfully leaving Daryl stunned in the kitchen._

_***_

_Daryl doesn’t quite know how to process what Carl told him not ten minutes ago. Mostly it came back to how damn nosy the kid was – didn’t he know not to get involved in his father’s love life? And then Daryl’s struck again by the fact that he may be part of Rick’s love life._

_He’s never been ashamed of his sexual orientation, but that’s mainly because it’s never been an issue except for when he was a teenager. Sure, the magazines will ask if he’s dating, but they never expect him to talk about his private life. It’s part of the mysterious image thing he has going; they have Glenn as the romantic, Merle as the player, and Tyreese will occasionally have them all guessing in a tabloid. Daryl is the asexual architect of the music, and it’s been his persona for so long now that nobody second-guesses it._

_He’d also be lying if he said that he hadn’t been thinking about the older man in more than friendly terms. He’s been brushing it off for weeks, that no, he did not think Rick was attractive with his scraggly beard and those damn hypnotic eyes. He’s been brushing off those thoughts that Rick is really funny, and clever, and talks just the right amount. He’s been ignoring those moments when they seem to know what the other’s thinking without saying a word, and especially the ones where Rick smiles at him like Daryl’s his favourite person in the world and Daryl’s insides turn to jelly._

_What’s stumped him really is that Rick could possibly be thinking something similar about Daryl. Now Daryl’s one of those guys who knows his worth, because he’s had to come to terms with it over the years. But it’s always been a given, that hey, he’s just not someone made to be attractive to someone else. He can write a song just fine, but his face doesn’t sit symmetrically and he’s got so many scars he won’t even go swimming unless alone or with Merle. He’s always been content with that knowledge, but this makes him nervous, self-conscious even._

_It’s what brings him knocking on Carl’s bedroom door once he’s finished chopping all the vegetables. Carl opens the door and raises an amused eyebrow._

_“What’s up, Daryl?” he asks._

_“Your daddy’s straight,” Daryl states and Carl laughs._

_“I was wondering how long it’d take you.”_

_“Damn it, kid.”_

_Carl goes and sits back on his bed, tapping out a quick message to a friend on his laptop, before telling Daryl, “When Mom and Dad split, Dad told me that when he started dating again that he may not be bringin’ home a lady. He’s not straight. Or not fully, anyway.”_

_“So…am I his type or somethin’?” Daryl stutters, and even Carl can’t laugh at the man wearing the look like he’s ready to crawl under a rock and die._

_“Dad doesn’t date, so I don’t know, Daryl. All I know is he likes you, so he must think you’re hot. And before you ask, it’s not just me who’s noticed. Beth and Maggie think so too.”_

_“Hershel’s daughters?!” Daryl asks in alarm._

_“Relax,” Carl starts tapping on his computer again, “You and Dad are the only two people on the planet who don’t see it.”_

_“And…you’d be okay with it?” Daryl asks hesitantly, hearing a car pull up out front of the apartment complex that sounds an awful lot like Rick’s Chevy._

_“I don’t wanna hear you guys having sex. That’s my only condition,” Carl tells him seriously, meeting Daryl’s eyes meanly. “I get enough of that with Mom. Just be good to him, he deserves it.”_

_***_

_Rick is all smiles when he walks through the door, seeing Daryl in the uniform-grey kitchen, preparing the skillet._

_“Nice to see my little housewife is doin’ so well,” he teases, placing the bag of roughly chopped beef on the counter._

_Daryl goes pink and keeps his back turned, not saying a word. He hasn’t been this nervous since his first arena show._

_“Somethin’ I said?” Rick asks, frowning with concern._

_“Na, s’all good,” Daryl grunts, turning on the stove. “Was just thinkin’ about some stuff.”_

_“Oh yeah?”_

_“Nothin’ excitin’. Just what I gotta remember to pack.”_

_Rick nods and goes to wash his hands before he starts preparing the meat._

_“I keep forgettin’ that you’re leavin’ soon. Me and Carl are gonna miss ya,” Rick tells him, and Daryl bites his lip, risking a look at the other man._

_Rick’s back is already to him though, shoulder-blades visible through his thin and greying_ Rascal Flatts _shirt, as he trims off the extra bits of fat the butcher didn’t get to._

_“It actually doesn’t feel so bare in this place now,” Rick continues, looking around at the apartment._

_“Maybe that’s because you’ve just been livin’ here more,” Daryl points out._

_Rick shrugs and responds, “In any case. Thanks for bein’…around, and of course that song turned out real well.”_

_Daryl nods and says, “Glad I could help.”_

_Rick clears his throat._

_“That’s actually why I invited you round tonight. To celebrate. Morgan’s put a hold on the song.”_

_Daryl turns to see Rick beaming at him, and holding out a bottle of champagne. Daryl screws up his face and teasingly says, “That stuff tastes like shit.”_

_“I don’t care, asshole. It’s traditional.”_

_Daryl finally lets his smile show and before he knows it, he’s taken a deep breath, leant over and hugged Rick. It’s quick, and the champagne bottle is in between them, but it’s enough for Daryl to press his face into Rick’s curls and catch a glimpse of what it must feel like to be able to do this whenever he wants. And it burns all of a sudden to realise that that yeah, this is what he wants._

_“Congratulations,” Daryl grunts as he pulls away, quickly turning back to the stove so Rick won’t see his face._

_“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Rick says, not allowing the suddenly tense atmosphere (or at least on Daryl’s end) to set, and there’s a clink as he places the bottle on the stone-counter._

_“Maybe if you’d gotten up at a reasonable hour, you could’ve figured it out,” Daryl jokes, and they’re back to the stupid grins._

_***_

_They’re next to each other on the couch later that night, champagne gone a long time ago, several empty beer bottles on the coffee table, and Carl’s already brushed his teeth and said good night. There’s some documentary on about Yellowstone that’s proven moderately interesting, but it serves as background to Daryl who’s a bit more focused on Rick’s knee pushed up against his own, as it has been for the past hour._

_“You know why I write at such ungodly hours?” Rick asks out of the blue._

_Daryl stirs and glances sideways at his companion. Rick’s eyes look a little tired, but his speech is clear and they had a pretty big dinner. Daryl himself is only a little tipsy._

_“No.”_

_“Because when I can’t sleep it means whatever’s keepin’ me awake is important enough to put in a song.”_

_“You do that a lot when you got divorced?” Daryl asks._

_Rick shifts in the couch cushions, but just ends up pushing more of his leg against Daryl’s._

_“Best sleep I’d had in years.”_

_“Your marriage that bad?”_

_Rick runs a hand over his beard and muses, “It’d been over long before that day. I just…it couldn’t be me to leave, y’know? I got that damn stubborn streak, and was too fucking proud to cut it off sooner. Now I feel like I wasted a lot of everyone’s time, and forced Carl to watch his two parents be miserable for years.”_

_“Can’t change nothin’ now. ‘Sides, Carl’s got his head screwed on right. You done good by him,” Daryl assures him._

_“Well if there’s anythin’ that Lori and I ever did right, it was that boy.”_

_Daryl nods once, but adds, “Kid needs to mind his own goddamn business though. Too smart for his own good.”_

_Rick sits up straight, looks Daryl in the eyes, and asks seriously, “He hasn’t been disrespectful, has he?”_

_Daryl laughs and pushes Rick back against the couch._

_“Relax, Rick. He just likes bein’ a pain in the ass,” Daryl tells him._

_Rick sighs and says, “I s’pose you’ll just have to get used to it then. I’ve already got him tickets to your Atlanta show.”_

_At some point through the discussion, they fall asleep on the couch. Rick’s head slowly droops and comes to rest on Daryl’s shoulder, and Daryl sleeps like the dead._

_***_

_Daryl’s making his first coffee when Rick bursts out of the bathroom, frantically towelling off his hair and looking around for something. He’s wearing a nice pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Carl has his feet up on the couch, laptop balanced on his abdomen._

_“Y’right, Rick?” Daryl asks, bleary-eyed and confused by the human tornado._

_“Tryin’ to find my damn shirt,” Rick mumbles, looking in the kitchen cupboards._

_“It ain’t gonna be in there,” Daryl points out. “Are you late for a meetin’ or somethin’?”_

_Rick sighs and stands up straight, before announcing, “I’m meeting Jessie for lunch.”_

_It’s Carl’s voice of disbelief that tells Daryl that what he’s heard was right, “As in a date?”_

_Rick frowns at his son and says, “Yeah. Been meaning to ask her for a while now.”_

_“Are you fucking kidding me?” Carl snaps, slamming his laptop lid down and getting to his feet._

_“Don’t talk to me like that, Carl,” Rick scolds, ice-fury in his eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”_

_“You are so goddamn blind, Dad! That’s what’s pissing me off! How could you do this?!” Carl yells._

_Rick takes in a deep breath and does that parental-whisper-yell, “Do what, Carl?”_

_“All I’ve heard ever since Hershel’s Opry thing is Daryl, Daryl, Daryl, who’s standing right there, by the way. In your kitchen. And you’re going on a date with Jessie? Please tell me this special asshole gene skips a generation,” Carl continues, punctuating his rant with wild arm gestures._

_Rick’s mouth gapes for a moment, before he tells Carl, deadly calm, “Go to your room.”_

_“Gladly,” Carl spits, and immediately vacates the living area, slamming the door behind him._

_Rick grips the counter with white knuckles. Daryl places his mug in the sink. Everything feels like it’s going in slow motion, and all Daryl knows is he is not okay and needs to leave._

_“I’m going to go,” he manages to say in a relatively even tone._

_As he brushes past though, Rick grabs hold of his forearm. Clear-sky meets ocean-storm. It’s Rick who caves, guilt already washing over his features._

_“Daryl. I didn’t…string you along, did I?” he asks, voice suddenly very small after the brief yelling match with his son._

_Daryl’s face remains impassive._

_“Yeah, Rick. You did,” he tells him simply._

_He yanks his arm out of Rick’s grasp and picks up his things quickly, not sparing a look for the man who’s frozen in the kitchen._

_And it’s the first night he doesn’t sleep._

 

***

 

“That’s how he left it?” Carol asks in disbelief and Daryl sighs, leaning back dramatically into his friend’s couch. 

“He left me a few messages. I deleted them,” he confesses. 

“Did you listen to them?” 

“There was nothin’ interestin’ in them. He just wanted me to call him back.” 

Carol takes a sip from her tea, slight furrow between her brows as she mulls over everything Daryl’s just told her. 

“So you have to go and record this new album with him, that right?” she checks after a good minute, and he nods his confirmation. “It won’t be easy, Pookie.” 

“He’s just gotta stay away from me, and I’ll get it done.”

His dismissive tone does nothing to fool Carol; her face is telling him to cut the shit. 

“You’re in love with him,” she states. “Do you know that?” 

His eyes drop to his lap where his fingers seem to be picking the dirt out underneath his nails of their own accord. 

“It ain’t love if he don’t feel it back. This is just a stupid, fucking crush that I should’ve been over months ago!” Daryl asserts. 

Carol’s no-bullshit stare intensifies. 

“Whatever. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, it’s true,” Daryl growls, and Carol sighs.

She places a comforting hand on his shoulder and says, “Just be careful.” 

 

***

 

It’s day one in the studio, and Daryl’s wearing his sunglasses inside even though he knows it’s what douchebags do. He just figures seeing Rick in full colour is something he can avoid at least, even if it’s petty as fuck. Daryl’s leaning against the wall by the door, Glenn’s on a swivel chair, Merle is pacing and peering through the glass at the large recording room, and Tyreese is chatting with their eccentric sound engineer, Eugene. 

“Grimes is late,” Merle whines. 

“It’s only been two minutes, Merle,” Glenn points out. 

“We were here on time,” Merle retorts, and Glenn shakes his head, knowing not to bother arguing further with the older Dixon brother while he’s in a mood. 

The door then clicks open and Rick steps into the small room, coffee, phone and a file in hand. 

“Mornin’ everyone. Sorry I’m a bit late – I bumped into Shane in the lobby. He’s got some work at the office to do, but he’ll be in this afternoon.” 

Daryl grunts. They already knew that. 

Rick’s eyes flicker to Daryl before he coughs, and closes the door behind him. He places his things on the limited desk space and leans against the counter. 

“Right, well let’s get straight into it. I’ve listened to the demos and you guys have got some really great songs in there. I was really impressed when I heard it,” Rick tells them. His tone is pleasant enough but Daryl can feel the ‘but’ coming. 

“…But I do have some notes of course.” 

There it is. 

“Now is there any song in particular y’all wanna lay down first?” Rick asks, eyes briefly holding the gaze of all the band members except Daryl. 

Glenn says, “We were thinking _No Way Out_.” 

Rick nods and opens up his file. 

“Good choice. I’ll need you guys to give it a run through before we do anything. There are definitely some sloppy points in the song, so I’ll map ‘em out while you’re playin’ and we’ll go over them after that. Sound good?” Rick asks and takes a sip from his coffee.

“That song’s great,” Daryl growls. “It’s s’posed to be sloppy. You’d know that if you got it.” 

Glenn’s eyes go wide and he shares an amused look with Tyreese. Merle just rolls his eyes, already knowing where this is going, even though it’s just too damn early in the morning for Daryl to be starting this shit. 

Rick visibly takes a deliberate breath, undoubtedly stopping his responding in the same unpleasant manner. He then carefully says, “The song is great, Daryl. We wouldn’t be recording it otherwise. These are just some little suggestions to polish it up, so that what you’re intending for it, is heard as clearly as possible.” 

Daryl huffs but he can’t think of a smart enough response, so he just wrenches the door open and strides round the other side. 

“This is gonna be one long ass day,” Merle mutters as he follows his brother. 

 

***

 

“Again,” Rick calls, eyes closing and waiting for Daryl to start playing again. 

Daryl glares underneath his too-long hair but turns his attention to the fretboard, fingers picking up speed as they wind their way round the solo. It’s easily the most challenging piece he’s written in a while, so it demands his full concentration. The track itself draws its roots more in rock than country, so there’s a whole lot less sliding around and twang than usual, and more of the quick scale-runs and sweeps, which are definitely more at home in another genre. In Daryl’s opinion though, this solo is just what this record needs. 

Maybe that’s why Rick is really struggling with this one. This is the fourteenth time Daryl has run through this one section, and every time Rick finds something new to complain about. Last time it was feedback from the amplifier. The time before that it was Daryl picking a clean note when he should’ve bent into it instead. 

When he’s finished this time, Rick’s shaking his head. 

“It still ain’t right,” the producer announces. 

Daryl turns his glare to the man and yells, “The hell is it this time?!” 

Rick sighs and says, “I think it’s those third and fourth bars. They’re just not working with the rest of the song. I know you wanna bring in some of those rock elements there, but it just ain’t right.” 

“Says the guy who walks around in a _Lynyrd Skynyrd_ t-shirt,” Daryl accuses. “You’re just stoppin’ now for the sake of stoppin’.” 

“I’m stoppin’ ‘cause it still ain’t right.” 

Daryl gets to his feet and places the guitar in its stand with more force than necessary. 

“You figure it out then. I need a smoke,” Daryl tells him. 

Rick runs a hand through his curls and sighs. 

“Would you like to continue with the solo when Mr Dixon returns?” Eugene asks. “I estimate I can listen to it another eleven times today before I require an alcoholic beverage of some sort. Sixteen if you and Mr Dixon do not yell at each other in between.” 

Rick raises an unimpressed eyebrow at Eugene and tells him, “We finish it when we finish it. You best remember that, Porter.”

 

***

 

Three days later, Shane storms into the studio, bee-lining for Daryl and Rick, who are once again having a shouting match over the placement of the bridge in Coma. Glenn, Tyreese and Merle, all too exhausted to intervene are slumped over their instruments, and barely acknowledge their manager as he enters the room. 

“What the _hell_ is goin’ on here?!” Shane roars. 

All heads turn, eyes wide. 

“I said, what the hell is goin’ on here?” he repeats, voice only slightly less irate. “I get a call last night telling me that you lot are pissin’ away your time in here?”

Daryl’s eyes narrow in on Glenn, who doesn’t even make the effort to look innocent. The singer is wearing his no-bullshit expression. Even Merle, usually so eager to come to his brother’s defence, just looks relieved. 

“We’ve been workin’ on-” Daryl starts but Shane holds up his hand to stop him.

“Nuh-uh, Dixon. If what I walked in on was ‘working’ then you need to shut your sorry ass up. You too, Grimes!” Shane orders just as Rick opens his mouth. “You both know how fucking expensive it is to book studio time, not to mention we gotta pay for Eugene and you, Rick, to be here! Do I also need to remind you we have a deadline on havin’ this album done?” 

No one dares respond. 

“Right. Glenn, Ty, Merle, Eugene, y’all can head on home now,” Shane says in a kinder tone. The men immediately start packing up, not questioning the instruction. He then turns back to Rick and Daryl, and points his finger at them. “I am giving you two till midnight here to get these songs ready. I will be in here tomorrow at nine until this damn record is done. So get your shit together.” 

 

***

 

They work very politely from then on, letting their pens do most of the talking as they go over the sheet music. Rick will circle the bit he’s not convinced by and Daryl will make a slight adjustment and Rick will nod, then they repeat. 

Then they hit the solo again. It’s ten o’clock, and the last song they need to nail before they can go home. Their swivel chairs are maybe a foot apart from each other, both trying not to lean in too much as they hunch over the papers in front of them. But they both know this isn’t going to be solved by their blue-ink ballpoints. 

“I know you wanna have more of a metal sound here,” Rick starts, underlining those third and fourth bars with the sweep-picking, and Daryl’s eyes narrow in preparation for what’s coming, “But you need to give it some room to breathe.” 

“The rest of the solo won’t make no damn sense without that,” Daryl protests. 

“I’m not sayin’ you take it out. It’ll just sound better if you change one of the sweeps into somethin’ else like-”

“I don’t need songwritin’ advice from a man who gave up his career for a family he doesn’t even have anymore,” Daryl spits and Rick straightens up, and his expression is glacial. 

Daryl knows he’s just crossed the line and he can’t fully explain why he did it, but fuck, the part of him that cares is the same part that is still telling him that he wants Rick. And he can’t give into that. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rick seethes. “I let you into my home. Do you know what you leavin’ did to Carl? The kid still won’t talk about it.” 

“I can tell you now it wasn’t me leavin’ that’s got your kid messed up,” Daryl taunts. 

Rick shakes his head and accuses, “That wasn’t fair what you did. Springin’ all that on me. The hell was I s’posed to do?” 

Daryl rolls his eyes and informs him, “All I said was that you were a tease, and I left. I didn’t spring shit.”

“It was so damn obvious it may as well have been a freight train.” 

“But it wasn’t obvious all that time before your son started yellin’ at you?” Daryl scoffs. “Give me a break! You know you fucked up, and you’re just lookin’ to blame me for your shit. No matter what you say, Carl bein’ pissed wasn’t about me, it was about you bein’ an asshole.”

Rick scowls and yells, “So you can honestly sit there and say that you didn’t…” the words can’t seem to make their way past Rick’s teeth. 

“What?” Daryl growls. “Can’t even say it can you?” 

Rick’s silent, but the glower says it all. 

“Don’t even have the courage to-” Daryl’s cut off by Rick’s lips smashing into his. 

Rick’s hands grasp the sides of Daryl’s face, his eyes are screwed shut. Daryl freezes for a second, eyes round as saucers. And then it’s over; Rick’s pulled away again. His eyelids are still clenched, like he’s not ready to open them and face whatever happens next, but it’s Daryl’s turn to react. 

He yanks Rick’s hair and pulls him back into the kiss. He’s vaguely aware of their knees touching, his back aching slightly from the position, but nothing can overwhelm the sense of absolute hunger for Rick right now. Rick’s kissing him back, and it’s not one of those nice movie kisses. Rick’s stubble scrapes Daryl’s face hard, their teeth clash too often, and it feels like their jaws are going to bruise from the collision. 

Somewhere in it all, there’s a voice screaming in protest. He tries to ignore it, breath laboured as he continues to tug on Rick’s hair and keep their mouths attached, but it just gets louder and louder. He’s drowning in Rick, but something’s throwing him a lifeline. Finally, he gives in, and shoves Rick away, the wheels on Rick’s chair carrying him away. 

The shock is evident on his face, as it must be on Daryl’s. 

Daryl just grabs his jacket and runs out the door, leaving Rick alone. 

 

***

 

He’d barely noticed the traffic on the way back to the hotel. He won’t remember how he got home tomorrow morning. There’s only one thing on his mind right now. It’s tying his stomach in knots, and clenching his heart within a tight fist. 

He heads straight for the mini-bar and pulls out that too-expensive bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He’s all too aware that it’s the same stuff he and Rick drank after the first band-meeting with the producer – the first night he’d ever told anyone besides Merle even a sliver of information about his scars. Daryl isn’t quite sure when exactly he started having feelings for Rick, but he was already gone at that point. 

Daryl coughs a little after he finishes the tiny bottle, throat burning. He sits down on the bed and touches his fingers to his lips. They’re swollen and bruised. There’s no getting around it; Rick kissed him tonight. For some inexplicable reason, Rick kissed him tonight. 

Daryl’s got no idea how to take that. 

What the hell did it mean? 

Was this Rick trying to tell Daryl he messed up? Was it Rick telling Daryl that he’d thought about it and decided that he liked him? Was it the heat of the moment? Was it Rick experimenting? 

Daryl gets up and kicks his duffel bag. 

In any case, does it even matter what was going through Rick’s head? 

Daryl sighs and does the only thing that makes sense to him. He picks up his guitar, checks the tuning, and starts strumming. 

When he realised he and Rick’d have to work together, he was livid. He was ready to sock Rick right in the jaw. 

A month ago, the mere thought of Rick made him ache. It made him miserable and God, was he lonely. Which of course made him feel stupid, because it wasn’t like he and Rick were anything in the first place. They’d only been friends a couple of months. 

Those few months had Daryl smirking at his phone screen, cooking actual meals instead of living off take-out, and writing happy music. Rick was staying in Atlanta most of the time, saying school was making it too difficult for Carl to go all the way to Nashville to see his dad, and Daryl was there nearly every day he was. Carl got on great with Daryl, and Daryl liked the kid even if he was a pain in the ass. 

Most of all, Daryl liked having a beer, Rick’s leg pressed up against his on the couch, watching but not really watching the TV, and listening to Rick’s stories from the business and from when Carl was little. He liked those grins Rick would get when Daryl said something gruff and amusing, the sparkle in his eyes when they debated the finer points of song writing, and Rick’s smiling at him when he thought Daryl wasn’t looking. 

As much as he wants to deny it, he knows Carol’s right. He’s in love with Rick Grimes. 

Confusing and stupidly charming Rick Grimes. 

Even after everything. 

He sighs and pauses his playing for a moment. A deep breath in and he starts playing the solo, figuring he may as well get the work done for Shane at least. He plays it through once, taking care to really listen to the arrangement. 

And Rick’s fucking right of course. It’s those third and fourth bars that sound out of place. He reluctantly starts messing around with the notes. 

Half an hour later, he doesn’t end up changing much, just replaces the fourth bar sweeps with a slurring lick. It makes one hell of a difference when he plays it through in full, and he grunts a quiet, “What d’ya know?” to himself. 

Then he starts strumming something new, and there’s nothing ambiguous about it this time if anyone asks. This is the song about Rick Grimes. 

 

***

 

The gang is all there when Daryl enters the studio the next day. True to his word, Shane is in the booth with a coffee and a serious look on his face. He raises his hand at Daryl in greeting and Daryl gives a quick nod in turn. Eugene already seems to be prattling on about something to Shane, who is doing his best to ignore the man with the mullet. 

Glenn is the first one to ask, once Daryl puts his guitar case down and undoes the latches, “How did it go last night?” 

Daryl slowly lifts the lid open. 

“We got it done,” he tells them. 

He picks up his acoustic and goes to take a seat on the stool, plugging the lead into his guitar. He tunes it and covertly looks around for their producer. Nowhere in sight. 

“Where’s Rick?” he grunts. 

“Friendly got a phone call. Don’t know when he’ll be back,” Merle supplies. 

Daryl nods and says, “Good. I got a new song I want y’all to hear.” 

“Didn’t think we needed any more songs, man,” Tyreese says, a confused chuckle in his voice. 

The guitarist shrugs. 

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Glenn encourages. 

Daryl nods in thanks, takes a breath and starts picking out the main lick. He repeats it twice, plucks a few more notes and then shifts into the verse’s chords.

He starts singing, voice so husky and rough in comparison to Glenn’s. He’s a bit hesitant at first, wondering whether the lyrics are okay, but he gradually relaxes into it as per usual.

Daryl shifts into the chorus, plays a solo that still needs a bit of work, and then the chorus a final time. He’s still messing around with the ending but when he finishes, it feels right. 

He looks up shyly, knowing he’s just shared something extremely personal with them all, and fuck, he sang the entire song by himself. He never does that. 

“Wow, Daryl,” Glenn says, eyebrows slightly raised in surprise, “That was…deep. I really liked it.” 

“Haven’t heard you sing in a long time, baby bro,” Merle tells him, nodding his approval. 

Tyreese is wearing a thoughtful expression when he adds, “If we’re gonna record this, you should do the lead vocal, Daryl.” 

Shane looks across to his former best friend, who’d snuck into the booth at the start of the song and was sitting on the floor with his back up against the door. Rick’s eyes are just a bit glassy, but he nods Shane an ‘I’m fine’ at the silent question. 

“That was great, man,” Shane calls through the booth’s mic.

Rick runs his hands through his curls and refuses to take his eyes off the ceiling. 

 

***

 

About a month after the record’s finished, Glenn finally steps up and proposes to Maggie. He’d been stressing about it for weeks, and even invited Tyreese ring-shopping (he knew neither of the Dixons would be very helpful). When he popped the question, it was a massive relief for everyone when she said yes. Mostly because Glenn was so wound up about it and was pissing off anyone in a ten foot radius. 

What it means for everyone is a big celebration at the Greene family ranch. Music, food, champagne and sparkling grape juice, and a whole bunch of sickeningly happy people. Definitely not Daryl’s definition of a good time, but Glenn and Maggie are elated, which is nice he thinks. 

There are fairy lights strung up all along the front porch of the house, through the trees and on the fence by the party. There are candles in jars on the table and the air is perfectly warm still. There’s not a cloud in the sky either, so all the stars are twinkling above them. 

With everyone up and dancing, Hershel finds his way over to Daryl and takes the seat next to him. 

“How are you doin’, Daryl?” he asks kindly, eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. 

“Good, thanks,” Daryl responds, unable to help his own small smile upon seeing the older man. His fingers are tapping out a random rhythm on the side of his beer bottle. “Congratulations,” he quickly adds, jerking his head towards the happy couple in the centre of the make-shift dancefloor. 

“Thank you,” Hershel looks over at his daughter and his smile grows broader, “I’ve been waiting a long time for Glenn to pluck up the courage and ask me for my blessing. I’m glad he did.” 

Daryl nods and says, “He was real worried about it for a while there. We all knew he was bein’ paranoid – whenever he ain’t on tour he’s here.” 

“It can be hard to ask for confirmation of someone else’s love,” Hershel muses. “You’ve gotta put your heart on the line and that’s a scary thing. Even if everyone else in the world can see clear as day it’s part of the Lord’s plan.” 

Daryl feels his cheeks burn and grumbles, “Why do I feel like you ain’t just talkin’ ‘bout Glenn?” 

Hershel’s twinkling eyes meet Daryl’s with amusement, and Daryl knows Hershel knows. 

“Rick knows. He hasn’t done anything ‘bout it,” Daryl informs him.

In fact, Rick had avoided saying a syllable more than necessary to Daryl for the duration of the recording. It would’ve taken an absolute idiot to not realise that new song was about him. 

Hershel’s gaze intensifies and Daryl suddenly feels very young. 

“Love is scary, Daryl, particularly for a man whose wife and best friend did what they did to Rick. That kind of trust is hard to give again, even if it is well-placed. Sometimes we convince ourselves that it’s better to kill something before it starts.” 

Daryl lets that sink in for a moment, looking down at his beer. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Daryl finally admits, mumbling. 

Hershel places a comforting hand on his shoulder and says, “I wouldn’t worry about that, son. It’s in his hands now.” 

He then urges Daryl to look up, and sure enough, Rick is pulling up in his Chevy. The producer gets out of his car and hurries over to Maggie who’s going in for a big hug. He picks her up as he hugs her, laughing. He gives her a kiss on the cheek when he puts her down and gives Glenn a quick hug as well. 

Then he looks over at Daryl, and his eyes soften. It’s the first time they’ve had any eye contact since the night they kissed, and Daryl hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it. God, it was like they were seeing each other for the first time, and Daryl’s heart was beating so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if Hershel could hear it too. 

Rick then jerks his head towards the house and Daryl gives him a small nod. 

“Thanks, Hershel,” Daryl says gratefully to the man. 

Hershel’s eyes have the same shine to them that they do when he watches Maggie and Glenn. 

“Good luck, Daryl.” 

 

***

 

Rick’s already sitting on the porch bench when Daryl wanders over. He’s watching the festivities with the small curve of a smile on his face, and doesn’t turn away when Daryl draws near. 

Daryl takes the seat next to him and looks back out to the party as well. He can see Glenn and Maggie dancing close and even Merle stealing a dance from Michonne. They’re far enough away that the music is only a hum, but still close enough to tell who’s who in the glow of the pretty-but-not-efficient lighting. 

“Hey,” Rick finally greets him softly. 

“Hi,” Daryl replies. 

They still don’t look away from their friends. 

“How’s the mix comin’?” Daryl asks when it becomes apparent neither of them are quite ready to launch into conversation on that particular topic right now. 

“Great. It’ll all be ready end of business Monday,” Rick says. 

Daryl nods, “Can’t wait to hear what you’ve done with it.” 

Rick takes a deep breath in and then tells him, “That final track is really somethin’.” 

Daryl snorts lightly. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Couldn’t tell for a while whether it was more confusing or clarifying,” Rick continues. 

Daryl tears his eyes away from the party, and underneath his hair, glances sideways at Rick. The producer’s position hasn’t changed, but his eyes are no longer focused on the lights, and his hands are fiddling with the hem of his flannel. 

“You figure it out?” Daryl presses. 

“It cleared a few things up. I was confused why you still felt that way about me,” Rick admits. 

“Not like I didn’t try not to,” Daryl murmurs with a laugh, earning a chuckle out of Rick. 

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.” Rick finally turns around to meet Daryl’s eyes. “But I was glad you hadn’t.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how it goes. Whole broken heart thing’s been real good for writin’.” 

Rick cocks his head and asks, “Lots of late nights?” 

Daryl looks down at his hands briefly, then up at the stars. 

“I had forty-two songs written in six months,” he admits. 

Rick whistles his respect. 

“Got enough material for the next three records at least,” Daryl jokes. 

Rick doesn’t laugh. Daryl meets his eyes again, to see how serious Rick’s gone all of a sudden. 

“I’m so sorry, Daryl,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m such a coward.” 

Rick puts his head in his hands and Daryl freezes. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do here. Does he need to rub his back or something? 

He settles for a hesitant hand on Rick’s shoulder. Rick abruptly sits back up and asks him, gaze mesmerising, “You remember the night before it all…happened?” 

Daryl nods, unsure where exactly Rick’s going with this. 

“We fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up, your arm was around me, and my head was on your chest. It was…it felt right, y’know? But that fuckin’ terrified me like nothin’ else.” 

“That ‘cause of Lori?” Daryl asks and Rick sighs.

“I was married to her for nearly thirteen years.”

“That’s an unlucky number,” Daryl points out. 

Rick raises an unimpressed eyebrow but there’s a trace of a smirk on his lips. 

“I was married to her for a long time and it hurt when she did that to me. That mornin’ I realised I couldn’t risk it again, knowin’ it’d be twenty times worse comin’ from you.” 

Daryl feels a lump in his throat forming but he quickly coughs it away and says, “You can trust me, Rick.” 

“I know I can. I just wish I’d figured that out sooner. Before I ruined everythin’.” 

Daryl just nods, gaze once again falling to his lap. 

“You just…you were so unexpected. The moment you left I knew that I was in love with you, and that I’d probably just screwed any chance we had, all because I couldn’t get my head round the timing.” 

Rick takes a deep breath then takes one of Daryl’s hands in his. Daryl’s eyes had already widened at a certain word, but this was enough to snap them up to Rick’s face again. Rick’s expression is searching, tentative, but it doesn’t stop him from telling Daryl, “But if you could give me another chance, you’d make me the happiest man alive.” 

Daryl holds the gaze for a second before dropping it and chuckling.

“What?” Rick asks nervously. 

“Never thought I’d feel this much like a fourteen year old girl, s’all.”

Daryl grins as Rick laughs, watching the way the laugh transforms Rick’s face into something truly remarkable. He squeezes Rick’s hand and Rick leans in to press a kiss to Daryl’s cheek. 

 

***

 

The camera flash seems to be burned in his retinas. He’s answered the same thing so many times that he’ll probably sleep-talk it tonight. But he’s been assured that this is what’s expected from such a big release. Their leading single dropped last week and is still sitting at number one on the country charts and iTunes. The record itself was available from nine in the morning, and it must be doing well because Daryl doesn’t think he’s ever had so many suits come up and shake his hand. 

He’s never really comfortable at these parties, but this one’s going a little better. Hershel very publically endorsed his band and is now charming a small crowd of people, whilst keeping one eye on Beth. Glenn has Maggie secure on his arm, Tyreese is bringing his sister Sasha round to meet everyone, and Merle is surprisingly sitting down at the bar, quiet as Michonne speaks to him. 

“Trust you to find the darkest corner to hide from your own party,” a voice teases and sure enough, Rick is smirking at him. 

He gives Daryl his bourbon and puts an arm around his waist, pulling him close. 

“Congratulations,” he murmurs then gives him a gentle kiss. 

“S’only the fiftieth time you’ve said that tonight,” Daryl grumbles, hiding underneath his hair and feeling his cheeks go red. 

“Well, I’m just really proud,” Rick explains with a goofy grin. 

“You produced the whole damn thing,” Daryl points out. 

“You proud of me too?” Rick asks deadpan and Daryl shoves him. “Darlin’, you hurt me.” 

Daryl raises his eyebrows. 

“Since when you callin’ me darlin’?” 

Rick shrugs and says, “Since now. Unless you prefer somethin’ else. Like ‘babe’ or ‘boo’ or what’s that thing Carl says…it’s like babe but it’s not…I don’t know.” 

“Shut up, Grimes.” 

Rick innocently sips from his scotch, but he doesn’t fool Daryl for a second. 

“Who are you hidin’ from?” Daryl asks, scanning the crowd. 

Rick sighs and admits, “Lori’s here with Shane, and she’s all mad at me ‘cause I let Carl use his computer when he was grounded. I just don’t wanna get yelled at, at your party, with all these cameras round to capture the humiliation.” 

“Cameras didn’t seem like a big deal when you were kissin’ me,” Daryl points out. 

They’d talked about it of course. Both wanted their relationship to remain private. They agreed that if it was leaked, then they’d deal with it, but for now they didn’t need to fan those flames. At least not for a while. 

“’Cause you found this perfect hiding spot,” Rick reminds him. “I can kiss you all I want back here.” 

“Dork.” 

“You love me anyway,” Rick points out and Daryl shoves him again.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. 

Rick just laughs, grabs his hand and starts pulling him into some better lighting. 

“C’mon, I’ve got a surprise for you and the guys.” 

 

***

 

Hershel had clapped Daryl on the back and gave his congratulations. Maggie practically had to pick up her fiancé’s jaw from the ground. Tyreese kept looking at the rep and then to Sasha for confirmation, repeatedly saying, “No way. No damn way.” Merle just nodded and shook the rep’s hand, saying how grateful they were. Only once the rep had cleared off did he exclaim “Holy fuckin’ shit! We’re playin’ the damn Opry!” 

Daryl climbs in the passenger seat of Rick’s truck and Rick beams over at him. 

“Can I say I told you so?” Rick asks cheekily. “Or will you bite my head off?” 

Daryl rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips are already curling upwards. It’s hard to keep this smile off his face. 

“I’m in a good mood,” he says simply. 

Rick reaches over, grabs Daryl’s hand and lifts it up so he can kiss it. 

“You’re fuckin’ embarrassin’,” Daryl grumbles. 

“Where’s that good mood?” Rick teases. 

Daryl gazes out the window with a furrowed brow, but nevertheless squeezes Rick’s hand. 

“When’s Lori lettin’ you see Carl?” he asks after a few minutes of silence. 

“They’re droppin’ him off at two tomorrow. Lori’s got a few days off work so she and Shane are makin’ a long weekend out of it here. They’ll pick Carl back up Monday lunchtime,” Rick says. 

“So it’s just you and a bottle of Jack tonight?” Daryl asks innocently. 

“Not quite.” Rick turns and gives Daryl a look that makes his toes curl. “I got a boyfriend who’s gonna fuck me into the mattress.” 

Daryl goes so quiet Rick thinks he might’ve just shocked all the words from his vocabulary. 

Then there’s a low, “Sounds ‘bout right” accompanied by the filthiest bedroom eyes Rick has ever seen. 

 

***

 

Rick just manages to lock the truck before Daryl has his hands firmly on Rick’s hips, and spins him round so he can kiss him. Rick’s back is forced against the steel as Daryl presses against him with an urgency that surprises him. But this is typical of Daryl not to show what’s really going on in his head until the actual moment. 

His fingers tangle in Daryl’s hair and Daryl’s are hooked in the belt loops of Rick’s pants. Rick smiles against Daryl’s lips, and Daryl slowly pulls back. He presses his forehead to Rick’s and just says, “I’ve been wantin’ to do that all night.” 

“You had that dark corner all set up,” Rick points out, grinning. 

“If I kissed you like this, we’d’ve done more’n make out.” 

“We gonna make it inside or are you gonna make me indecent to my neighbours?” Rick asks, knowing Daryl’s already forgotten where they are. 

“Nah, first time I fuck you outdoors is gonna be somewhere nice,” Daryl replies says, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips. He then takes one of Rick’s hands and leads him up to the front door so Rick can unlock and let them in. 

The moment the door closes, Daryl’s behind Rick and kissing along his jaw, hands back on Rick’s hips. 

“Can’t believe you wore those damn boots,” Daryl murmurs against Rick’s clean-shaven skin, already a little prickly with regrowth, looking down at Rick’s cowboy boots. 

“One day you’re gonna come home and I’m not gonna be wearing anything _except_ these boots, and you’ll like it,” Rick says in a low voice. 

Daryl stops suddenly and Rick turns around with a small frown.

“What’s up?” Rick asks. “Did I say something?

“Come home?” 

Realising he might’ve just made a big mistake, Rick hurriedly explains, “I mean when you’re back from tour. Y’know, and I just happen to, uh, be there.”

Daryl locks eyes with him and says, “No. I’m just happy you think so too.” 

They stand there for a moment, simply looking at each other, and then Daryl leans in and presses his lips to Rick’s. He shrugs out of his suit jacket, and reaches behind Rick so he can put it on the coat rack, then wraps his arms around Rick so he can pull him closer. 

It’s slow, a lot less frantic than it was just minutes ago, but it still leaves them breathless. 

“I love you,” Rick tells him as they gasp for air. 

Daryl leads him into the bedroom, pushes him onto the bed and runs a hand through Rick’s curls. 

“I love you too,” he says. “Now take your damn clothes off.” 

 

***

 

The loneliness on the road fucking sucks. 

It’s hard to call when the time difference is so vast, but mostly Daryl just misses the feeling of Rick pressed up against him and the steady rise and fall of his chest that always helps him get to sleep. 

But Rick’s always at the airport to pick Daryl up, he tries to come to shows when he’s not working, and when Daryl finally has him all to himself, they are the least lonely people in the world.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Road - Edit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9544547) by [PixieReedus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixieReedus/pseuds/PixieReedus), [Rickyl_edits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickyl_edits/pseuds/Rickyl_edits), [YeyaGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeyaGrimes/pseuds/YeyaGrimes)




End file.
